


Whumptober 2019

by Dredfulhapiness



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Iron Dad, Iron Family, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-14 21:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20854517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dredfulhapiness/pseuds/Dredfulhapiness
Summary: This is where I'm going to post all of my Whumptober 2019 fics! The tags will be updated as I post more.





	1. Shaky Hands

Tony struggled with the lighter for about 15 seconds until another hand grabbed his and steadied it. He didn’t bother looking up to see who it was-- he already knew-- instead, he focused on taking a long drag. He focused on the burn in his lungs. 

“Those aren’t good for you,” Steve said. After letting go of Tony’s hand he’d shuffled to the side a step. He was still facing him, but wasn’t pinning him against the wall. 

“Half the universe is gone,” Tony spat, “I’ve earned a cigarette.” He hated how much he sounded like his father. He hated that he didn’t really care. 

“We’ll figure something out,” Steve said, the way he always says things: confident and unwavered. Tony wanted to choke him, wanted to catch him off guard and make him  _ feel something  _ for once. He wanted him to see that they wouldn’t have to  _ fix  _ things if they’d found a way to prevent them in the first place-- he wanted him to apologize for Peter, and Stephen, and that weird guy from Missouri. 

He wanted Steve to take responsibility and mean it. 

Instead of voicing any of that, Tony took another drag of his cigarette. It tasted like college. Like Rhodey sliding a pizza box across the table to him and MIT and a week straight without sleeping. When he breathed out, it was in Steve’s face. When he tapped the loose ashe from the end it reminded him of Peter. 

He could see the cigarette trembling in his hands. He could feel Steve watching him, waiting for a response. 

“I have to go take a call,” Tony said. He dropped the cigarette, stepped on it. Steve’s lips parted, but Tony wasn’t sure if it was in shock or annoyance. 

“Tony,” Steve said, but Tony didn’t turn around. He didn’t trust himself-- not with how his fists were clenched in his pockets, not with how his brain was replaying what it felt like to punch Steve back in Siberia. “We have to figure out what to do.”

“I,” Tony said, jaw clenched. He kept his eyes forward, “Have to figure out how to help the people that are still here.” And then he left, and he forced himself not to look and see which expression crossed Steve’s face. He forced himself not to feel bad about hurting his feelings. He forced himself to think about Peter in his arms, begging for help. The door slammed shut behind him.


	2. Explosion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter reacted to the sound before he even processed what it meant. He used a tree as leverage and launched himself toward Harley, who was plummeting toward the lake at a frightening speed. Smoke trailed behind him, arcing through the air.

Peter reacted to the sound before he even processed what it meant. He used a tree as leverage and launched himself toward Harley, who was plummeting toward the lake at a frightening speed. Smoke trailed behind him, arcing through the air. 

“Harley?” Peter asked. The earpiece was secure in his ear, but he couldn’t hear anything from the other end. 

When Peter grabbed the suit, the heat engulfed his hands. There was nothing between his palms and hot metal, but he hardly noticed. He shot blindly at a tree and was relieved when he felt a tug at his shoulder. 

When they landed, Peter felt his ankle give out under him. 

“What the hell is going on?” 

Peter rolled Harley onto his back, clawed at the mask until it ripped off. Harley’s face was covered in soot. “The suit,” Peter called back to Tony, not turning around. “Something went wrong.”

Tony cursed. Peter heard his footsteps approaching as he scrambled to remove the burning suit. He lodged the chest plate off. Tony helped him pull Harley out of it. Tony tossed Peter his keys. “Go get the car,” he ordered, his voice gruff. 

“I--”

“ _ Go get the car.”  _ Peter nodded, and ran toward the driveway. 

\--

They propped Harley up between them as they burst into the ER. He was conscious, but barely. In Peter’s ear, his breath was raspy and shallow. His skin was warm at the site of the burns. 

“We need help!” Tony announced to the crowded room. He peeled himself from Harley’s side to step up to the front desk, leaving Peter to re-adjust Harley against him. Harley groaned. Peter swallowed.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “We’re gonna get you help, alright?” Harley made a noise that Peter took to mean agreement, or understanding. 

The rest was a blur-- they passed Harley off to a stretcher, and Peter robotically told the doctors what Harley had been burned with. When the doctor asked why Peter was limping, Peter realized that there was a shooting pain up his left leg. He just waved the doctor off. 

And then they waited, and Tony didn’t talk to him, and he didn’t  _ need  _ to, and Peter buried his face in his stinging hands until they were brought back to see Harley.

When the doctor led them down the hall, Tony put an arm around Peter’s shoulder. It wasn’t comforting, it was a vice grip. His fingers dug into Peter’s bicep. Instead of thinking about that, Peter tried to listen to what the doctor was telling them.

“... Smoke inhalation. Some burns, severe, but he won’t need any skin grafts. We gave him some morphine for the pain…” 

Peter watched Tony’s face. His expression was stony. He asked a question. The doctor answered. All Peter could hear was Tony telling them not to work on the suit, that it was dumb and someone was going to get hurt. That this was the kind of shit that could get them killed. At the time, Peter had assumed he meant heroism. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

He also heard the explosion. It still rang in his ears, the sound travelling over the lake. The echo. 

They stood in the doorway. Tony thanked the doctor, promised to contact him if he had any questions. 

The doctor left. 

With trembling hands, Peter pulled the curtain open.

\--

Peter didn’t want to look at Tony, who was on the phone with Harley’s mother trying to explain himself. He didn’t want to look at Harley, who needed an oxygen mask to breathe and had bandages up and down his arms. Instead, Peter stared at his hands. His burns had already faded to pink lines, nearly healed. His sprained ankle was nothing worse than a pulled muscle. 

He was going to be fine. 

_ So is Harley,  _ he reminded himself, but it didn’t make him feel any better. 

Tony still hadn’t talked to him. He hadn’t talked to Tony, either, they were both just waiting. Tony hung up the phone. Peter held his breath. The silence was as sterile as the hospital room. The machine beeping was the squeaky clean floors. The puff of air from the oxygen mask was the faint smell of pinesol. Peter couldn’t take it anymore. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. For the first time since they’d sat down, Tony glanced at him. Peter was surprised by the expression on his face. It wasn’t anger, not really. He’d seen that before. He looked tired, sad.  _ Oh,  _ Peter thought,  _ he’s disappointed.  _ And his stomach did a somersault. 

“Next time I tell you not to do something,” Tony said, and his voice was surprisingly level, “don’t do it.” 

Peter nodded and picked at the fabric of the chair. Neither of them spoke again until Harley woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy day two of Whumptober! This is waaaay longer than day 1. Did you like it? Want to see more? If the answer to either of those questions is yes, feel free to find me on Tumblr @dredfulhapiness and let me know there. You can also check out some of my other fics. Feel free to comment, or to come send me an ask on Tumblr with any questions, concerns or complaints. Thanks for reading!


	3. Fist Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time, Harley threw the first punch.

The first time, Harley threw the first punch. 

It was also, consequently, the last time he was ever invited to hang out with Peter’s friends. 

When Flash made his first comment-- something about Peter being too poor to even  _ look at  _ his Gucci Spider-Man shirt, Peter saw Harley’s lips twitch into a frown. By midday, he could tell it was grating at him. It didn’t help that Flash seemed to take a liking to Harley. It was probably the designer clothes that always happened to just pop up in his closet. The same designer clothes that Harley had a habit of sneaking back into Tony’s closet, or into the donation bin outside the grocery store-- Flash didn’t know that part, thought, and it made Peter grin.

Harley. Cool. As if. Just two nights ago, Peter had watched him hum along to the entire Mamma Mia soundtrack. 

It was Flash telling Harley, “you seem too cool to hang around Parker” that finally broke his resolve. 

“Hey, Flash?” Harley asked casually. 

“Hmm?” Flash looked up, and Harley punched him. It happened so fast that it even took Flash a moment to process. Peter stood abruptly, and Ned followed his lead, their eyes wide. Flash reeled back, a hand pressed to his face.

“What the  _ fuck _ ?” he demanded. Harley was already rolling his sleeves up. Peter moved to step forward, but MJ wrapped a hand around his wrist. She had a devious glint in her eye. 

“Let him,” she whispered. “He has it coming.” Peter shook his head. 

“Oh, sorry,” Harley said. “Was that not cool?” 

“Harley,” Peter scolded, but he wasn’t even sure Harley heard him. 

When Flash hit back, Peter could hear the impact. He cringed. 

“Uh,” Ned said. “Oh.”

Harley staggered back, red already blooming across his cheek. His lip was cut. When he grimaced, it was bloody. When he launched himself forward, rage was what propelled him. 

Peter could lift a car, but it took both him and Ned to wrench Harley off of Flash. Peter’s hands tangled in the collar of Harley’s shirt. “Down boy,” he muttered. “It’s not worth it.” He watched Ned help Flash stand. His nose was bleeding. 

“Are these the people you hang around, Parker?” Peter tightened his grip in Harley’s shirt.

“That’s enough, Flash.” MJ didn’t look to upset. “It’s over.” 

Harley looked far too satisfied on the ride home. When Happy balked at him, mildly bloodstained and decently bruised, he’d just shrugged and adjusted his watch. 

“Can we stop at a Duane Reade?” Peter asked. “I need to grab this dumbass some bandages.” 

\--

The second time, it had been Peter. 

“Can you just leave me alone for, like, five minutes?” Harley was loud enough to be heard in the living room. 

“Not if you’re just going to do something dumb!” Peter shot back. Harley rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t need you to decide what I can and can’t do.” 

“Harley,” Peter said, “if you try to fight Fisk you will literally  _ die. _ ” He followed Harley as he stormed across the garage to throw some tools back into their drawers. 

“I can take care of myself, Peter.”

“No,” Peter said, “You can’t-- Will you stop moving for  _ one second  _ and listen to me, please?” 

Harley whirled around. “I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”

“You’re clearly not, because you’re planning on--” 

Harley pushed past him. Peter turned, gaped. He spluttered, watched Harley shoved his stuff into his backpack.

“Fine,” he said.

Harley turned, “ _ Thank you _ ,” he said, sarcastic, but before he could even finish Peter punched him-- pulled, of course, because he wasn’t trying to  _ kill  _ him-- in the gut. Harley doubled over. Peter only had a moment to revel in his success (and guilt) before Harley swung at his face. Peter stumbled back, Harley doubled down and shoved him into the cabinet. 

It was Tony that ended up pulling them apart. It was Peter that got in trouble:

“ _ Why  _ would you think that was a good idea?” He demanded, and Peter shrugged. 

“If he can’t beat me, he definitely couldn’t beat Fisk.” He held a bag of frozen peas to his eye. Across the room, Morgan was helping Harley put a bandaid on his cheek. 

Tony rubbed his eyes. He took a deep breath. “Don’t,” he said after a long moment, “ever do that again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, day 3 is "delirium" but I'm already working on a Mysterio fic and it just felt redundant. As always, any questions, comments, concerns, feel free to leave a comment here or come message me on Tumblr @dredfulhapiness asks are always open and I love talking about this kind of stuff.


	4. Human Shield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner was fine until it wasn’t. One second they were eating and having a fairly comprehensive conversation. The next, Peter felt himself twisting to pull himself between Morgan and the front door of the restaurant

**** “You know how to make your straw wrapper a worm?” Peter ripped the top of his wrapper off. Morgan pulled  _ a face _ .

“Peter, that’s disgusting.” Who taught her the word disgusting? Where did she get this attitude from-- actually, he knew the answer to that last one. His gaze shot to Tony, who was in the middle of a quiet-but-emphatic conversation with Pepper. 

“It’s not a  _ real  _ worm, silly.” He dragged his attention back to Morgan. “Here, watch.”

He scrunched the wrapper up tight and pulled it off the straw. With a flourish, he dipped the straw in his water and dropped it on the wrapper. It extended like a worm. Morgan’s eyes were wide. 

“Daddy! Look what Peter can do. He can make a worm!” 

“Don’t spiders eat worms?” Tony asked. Peter just rolled his eyes. 

“Do you want to try, Morgan?” He held her straw out to her. 

They normally avoided this, going out in public altogether. There was a quiet, collective agreement to keep Morgan away from the press for as long as they can, and there was another, not so collective agreement, to keep Peter and Tony’s relationship as quiet as possible. How long would it take the press to put together that the intern Tony Stark has practically adopted is  _ also  _ Spider-man, the young superhero that Tony Stark has practically adopted? But it was a slow tuesday night, there was no food in the house, and the only place that delivered near them was a pizza place that, to everyone except Harley and Morgan, sucked. Harley’s opinion didn’t count, though, because he’d once brought Peter to a pizza place in Tennessee, and maybe Nashville was known for its food but  _ nothing  _ could beat New York City pizza. 

So they were out. Together. Keeping it as low key as possible. 

And dinner was fine until it wasn’t. One second they were eating and having a fairly comprehensive conversation. The next, Peter felt himself twisting to pull himself between Morgan and the front door of the restaurant. He pressed her against his chest, burying her face into his shirt. The back of his neck tingled, the hair on his arms were raised. 

Harley started, “Pete, what--” when the glass behind them shattered inward. 

Peter felt it more than he heard it. The glass ripped at his back, hot and sharp. Across the restaurant, someone screamed. In his arms, Morgan squirmed, but Peter didn’t let her move until the restaurant had gone deathly silent, until the hairs on his arms settled. She squirmed away from him, a look of terror on her face. She rushed over to Pepper who, albeit shocked, was relatively unharmed. 

“Morgan,” Peter asked, “Are you okay?”

She nodded furiously, and then burst into tears, which Peter took as a sign of success. 

“Are  _ you _ okay?” Harley asked. Craning his head to look at him hurt, Peter noted, as the cuts ranged from the back of his arms and his back to his neck. Harley reached an arm out, as if to touch him, but then pulled it back. Peter managed a shaky smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this what they meant by human shield? Probably not, but I'm very sleepy and so this is what is given. As always, feel free to comment on here or to come send me an ask on Tumblr @dredfulhapiness I am lonely and always available to talk! Thanks for reading!


	5. Hiding

Peter wondered if Kraven could hear his blood dripping on the floor. Then he wondered why that was something he  _ needed  _ to wonder. Down the hall, he could hear footsteps as the hunter went through each room. 

“I can smell you, Spider,” he announced, and Peter pulled back into his corner a little bit farther. 

He clutched at his side. His wound was gaping, and he was doing his best to keep his breathing even, but he was running out of time. He could  _ feel  _ the hunter’s approach, his nerves were on fire. 

_ Holy shit,  _ he thought,  _ I’m going to die here _ . 

Then he thought,  _ Someone’s coming. I sent out the signal.  _

“You’re losing a lot of blood,” Karen said, “Would you like me to call an ambulance?” 

Peter had to stifle a laugh in the back of his spare hand. The action sent pain jolting across his abdomen. 

“I hear you,” The Hunter said, and Peter closed his eyes, like he used to when he was a child playing hide and seek.  _ If I can’t see you you can’t see me.  _ That’s what they used to say in band when they were backstage--  _ If you can see the audience the audience can see you _ . There were footsteps approaching. Peter held his breath. 

“There you are,” Kraven said, and Peter stifled a scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today's prompt was ACTUALLY "gunpoint" but I didn't have any good ideas for that so I chose one of the alternate prompts. Admittedly, this one isn't my best but it's been a weird day, so this is what we have. Feel free to come talk to me on Tumblr @dredfulhapiness !


	6. Dragged Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Tony died, Peter took a seat across from him. Well, he didn’t take a seat as much as he collapsed, his legs splaying in front of him like a child. For a while, everyone gave him space. They let him sit. Even when they collected Tony’s body, he didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge their presence.

After Tony died, Peter took a seat across from him. Well, he didn’t take a seat as much as he  _ collapsed _ , his legs splaying in front of him like a child. For a while, everyone gave him space. They let him sit. Even when they collected Tony’s body, he didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge their presence. 

They all felt for the kid. 

“Does he have anyone we can call?” Banner whispered, and Steve just shrugged. 

“Pepper may know, but I haven’t seen the kid since…” He swallowed. “I can find out.” 

Other than Pepper pulling him back, and Rhodey murmuring, “it’s okay, kid” Steve Rogers was the first person to talk to Peter after Tony died. 

“Hey,” he said, crouching down beside where Peter was hunched. His hands were folded in his lap, His hair covered his eyes, but Steve could tell he’d been crying. “Do you have someone that can come get you?” 

Peter jerked, like he hadn’t heard Steve approaching. He looked at him with wide, startled eyes. The right side of his face was bruised. A cut above his eye was bleeding. He looked as bad as the rest of them. “What?” he asked, voice hoarse. 

“We need to get you home,” Steve said. “And probably checked out by a doctor.” 

It took Peter a moment to understand. When he did, his lips parted, panic broke out on his face. “Aunt May,” he whispered. “Oh my God, it’s been five years. I-I’ve been gone for five years. She--”

Steve put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s going to be okay.”

“We could have pulled it off his hand.” Peter’s voice broke.

“What?” 

“I-if I’d tried harder--” Steve swallowed a sigh. He looked at where Tony’s body had been. The spot felt empty.

“This is bigger than you,” He said. “You can’t blame yourself for that.” His grip on Peter’s shoulder tightened. “C’mon, let’s get you home.” 

“I--” Steve pulled him up as gently as he could. 

“The fight’s over,” he said, and the words felt heavy in his mouth. When Peter still didn’t move willingly, Steve pulled a little, until Peter was following out of obligation. “You need to go home.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha, you didn't think i was going to make it today, did you? Well, jokes on you, because i DID!


	7. Isolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter had asked EDITH every possible question he could. The questions ranged from: “EDITH what do I do?” To: “EDITH is all of this real?” Her solutions involved shutting down the billboards in the city and interfering with news stations. Her solutions involved this being real-- being very real, and all Peter knew was that shutting the media down would almost make things worse.

**Day 7: Isolation**

Peter had asked EDITH every possible question he could. The questions ranged from: “EDITH what do I do?” To: “EDITH is all of this real?” Her solutions involved shutting down the billboards in the city and interfering with news stations. Her solutions involved this being real-- being  _ very  _ real, and all Peter knew was that shutting the media down would almost make things worse. 

For the twentieth time since the video dropped, he denied a phone call. This one was from May. For the twentieth time since the video dropped, his phone lit up to tell him he had a voicemail. 

He dropped his head back against the concrete slab. Above him, a train ran over the tracks, brakes screaming as it prepared to stop at the next station. 

He was out of questions, and being out of questions meant being stalled, and being stalled meant being out of solutions, and being out of solutions meant… 

Peter had always known that Peter Parker couldn’t be Spider-Man, and Spider-Man  _ definitely  _ couldn’t be Peter Parker. There was too much to be sacrificed that way, too many mistakes he couldn’t make. 

His phone rang. Peter hit the wrong button.

“Jesus, Peter, I’ve called you ten times! May and Happy are worried sick! you can’t just go MIA—” Harley spoke faster than Peter could reach the hang up button. He sounded irate. He sounded worried. Peter swallowed. He put the phone to his ear.

“Sorry,” Peter said. “Sorry. Sorry, I’ve been trying to— I’ve been trying to figure this out.” 

“You’re the most wanted criminal on the planet right now, you can’t just run off without checking in—“

“I’m not a criminal,” Peter said, harsh. His voice cracked. 

“I know that,” Harley said, and he’d taken his tone back. “But you need to prove it. And you need to keep us updated. The entire city wants your head on a stick. Anything could have happened to you.” 

Peter sighed. 

“Are you still there?” Peter could hear shuffling on Harley’s end. 

“Yeah.”

“Peter,” Harley said. “What are you going to do?”

Peter thought about the Netherlands. He thought about Happy watching him from across the plane. 

_ “What are you going to do?” _

_ “Kick his ass.” _

“I don’t know.” His voice cracked. “I can’t go home.” 

“Find Strange and come here,” Harley offered. “You can stay in the shed.”

“You’d be housing a fugitive,” Peter said. “I couldn’t.”

“I wasn’t asking. I’ve already talked to Pepper, May can stay with her until we get this sorted out.” 

Harley sounded so rational. So  _ adult _ . 

“--And I have a few ideas,” Harley was saying, “Nothing major, but I think we have the technology to have Spider-Man save you. Plus, Stark Industries already has people analyzing the footage to try and see if it’s edited-- It is edited, right?”

Peter was quiet for a moment. “Some of it,” he said. “Some of it’s just taken out of context.” 

“We can prove that. Call Strange.” 

“Okay,” Peter said, suddenly feeling like a berated child, like a kid from Queens that didn’t deserve these powers, or these glasses or this suit. He felt like…

_ Pete, jump. I’ll catch you.  _

“Pete? You got this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is slowly becoming more and more work. I'm so tired. I have so many articles due for so many classes. I will prevail.


	8. Stab Wound

It was normally Peter who came home injured. He was the one with the least armor, and he was the one who typically  _ fought  _ something. He could take a hit, too. Which is why Tony’s blood ran cold when Harley was the one who came stumbling in, one arm clutching at his stomach, his head resting against Peter’s shoulder. 

Tony stood so fast that his chair clattered to the ground. “What the fuck?” He demanded, “I sent you to the  _ grocery store.”  _

Harley laughed, then groaned. “We got mugged,” he said, grinning.

“No,” Peter said. “Someone  _ else  _ got mugged and instead of letting me handle it, he decided it would be a good idea to try to fight them himself.” His lips were set in a straight line. He looked more annoyed than worried. “Help me get him in the garage.”

“ _ Garage _ ?” Tony spluttered. “We’re taking him to the hospital.” 

“Don’t have insurance,” Harley said. “You’re not taking me to the hospital.”

“You’re an employee of Stark Industries, dumbass,” Tony said, grabbing his keys, “You have insurance.” 

“I have  _ never  _ gotten a paycheck,” Harley complained. 

“You live in my house and have unlimited access to food and supplies. There’s also a college fund put away if you ever decide to go to college. Why would I give you a paycheck?”

Harley looked up, his eyes wide.

“There’s  _ what?”  _ He balked. Tony sighed.

“This, right here?” He waved his hand, “Is  _ not  _ the time to be having this conversation.” 

Peter snorted. Harley still looked bewildered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one isn't particularly sad but someone got hurt so it counts. I like angst as much as the next guy but this is getting exhausting so here's some cute.


	9. Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is during the 5 years

Harley fell asleep in the garage. Again. 

Every once in a while, Tony would glance at him curled up in his chair and smile. 

He knew Pepper would tell him to wake him up and send him to bed. He also knew that if he woke him up Harley wouldn’t actually go back to bed. He’d start working on something and get distracted. 

So Tony let him sleep. 

It was nice having Harley around. For the first time in a long while, Tony had someone working with him on something of low-urgency. For once, he had someone working on something with him and it  _ wasn’t  _ because the world was going to end. It was a nice change of pace, even if, as Harley put it, the world had already ended.

He’d been asleep for nearly two hours when it started. First, it was just a high pitched whine that Tony shrugged off. Then it was the mumbling, low, and anxious, and erratic. Tony watched him flail. 

“Harley,” he said. Then, a little louder, “Harley!” 

When he put a hand on his shoulder, Harley reached up and grabbed Tony’s shoulder. His grip was rough, and Tony winced. He winced even harder when he demanded, before opening his eyes, “Mom?” 

“No,” he mumbled, guilt a sudden pain in his chest. “Sorry.” 

Harley’s eyes shot open. He took in the room, studied Tony’s face. The realization came slowly. Tony watched it happen. It went from dreamy fear, to a sad realization. 

“Did I fall asleep?” Harley said instead of addressing it. Tony swallowed. 

“Yeah,” he said, “Why don’t you head to bed?” 

He wasn’t surprised when Harley said no. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the prompt for today was technically "shackled" but I'm tired and I didn't have any ideas for that that didn't bore me, so I decided to choose one of the alternates.

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually... a lot of fun to write. I'm also doing Inktober, though, so pray for me, lmao. If you liked this, feel free to leave a comment! You can also find me on Tumblr @dredfulhapiness I post lot of smaller drabbles on there if you're interested in that. I ALSO always have my asks open if y'all wanna talk. :)


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